“Get off the deck of my schooner, the whole parcel of you! If you don’t I’ll kill you!”
Grabbing an iron bar he knocked the nearest marine senseless. Don Azata shouted fiery orders and Poole was quickly overpowered.
The little Spanish captain’s face blazed. A rope was brought. It was decided to hang the captain of the Meta at his own yard-arm.
But at this critical moment the captain’s eyes fell upon the chest of coins. At once he became interested. He fell to examining them.
Then he catechised Poole. The latter answered ungraciously at first.
To his surprise the Spanish captain ordered his bonds cut, and, thrusting his eager face forward into his, said:
“It is buried treasure; you have dug it out of the ground; tell me, senor capitan, where you found it, and I will spare your life.”
“What good will that do you?” asked Poole. “There is no more to be found there.”
“Do you think so, senor? There must be gold where this was found. This is but silver.”
A sudden swift thought flashed across Poole’s brain. He had abandoned all hopes of the treasure, but he thirsted for revenge.